


no hard feelings

by vitale



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitale/pseuds/vitale
Summary: Parrish stops in his tracks and blinks at him, and for the first time tonight, he doesn’t look like he wants to murder Ronan anymore. Ronan would even say he looks a little impressed, though it’s less in a ‘I-am-totally-charmed-by-your-desperate-attempt-to-get-my-number’ way and more in a ‘I-can’t-believe-you-have-the-nerve-to-say-this’ way. “Did you just make a pass at me after I found you passed out drunk in my bed in my shirt that you stole from my closet?”Ronan shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide his obvious agitation. “I guess.”





	no hard feelings

**Author's Note:**

> this is super short but i saw a dialogue prompt on tumblr and i couldn’t resist
> 
> i lost the link but this was the prompt: “This is not my house.” “And that is not your shirt either.”

In Ronan’s defense, he’s absolutely wasted.

He hasn’t been this drunk since Henry’s birthday party three months ago, to be exact. He pushes through the door—unlocked; how many times is Ronan going to have to tell Gansey to stop leaving the door open before they come back to half their belongings missing—and stumbles in, barely catching himself from tripping on whatever Gansey left on the floor. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights, just strips out of his shirt, grabs a random shirt from his closet—Ronan really needs to clean out his closet—and crashes out the second his head hits the pillow.

He wakes up to a massive headache and someone forcefully tugging at his arm. Ronan grunts and bats a hand at them, willing them to go away. It can’t have been more than a few hours since he fell asleep, and Ronan has every intention of getting a full 12 hours and then some.

There’s a pause and then the pulling starts again.

Aggravated, Ronan rolls over onto his back and throws an arm over his face to protect his eyes from the light.

“ _What?_ ” he snaps, cringing at the sound of his own voice. He feels like shit, and his mouth feels like something died in there, and he can’t imagine what could possibly be important enough to wake him up in the dead of night. Surely whatever Gansey wants from him can wait until tomorrow. Wasn’t Gansey supposed to spend the night at Blue’s anyway?

But instead of Gansey’s familiar voice, a voice Ronan definitely doesn’t recognize says something he can’t make out. Ronan frowns and tries to open his eyes, but they immediately squeeze back shut.

“What?” Ronan repeats, bleary-eyed and confused.

“Why are you in my room?”

Ronan, now vaguely alarmed, makes an effort to open his eyes and lets them adjust to the light.

His immediate thought is that this is certainly not his bed. His second thought upon taking in his surroundings is that this is definitely _not his room_ , unless Gansey had done some serious moving around and bought five different kinds of plants in the few hours since Ronan was last in the room. The rational part of Ronan’s brain thinks this is maybe time to panic, because he doesn’t remember going home with anyone, and there’s a stranger hovering above him, and he has no idea what’s going on, but he’s too dazed to do anything more than stare in confusion.

“What are you doing in my room?” The voice says again, a little clearer and significantly more impatient.

Ronan, now wide awake, jolts up from the bed, almost pulling something in his back, and finally takes a good look at whoever is trying to get his attention. There’s a second where Ronan doesn’t really comprehend what he’s looking at and his brain kind of shuts down for a bit. And then he does a double take and his jaw almost drops to the floor. Because standing in front of him is none other than _Adam Parrish_ , Gansey’s hot, brilliant, painfully-out-of-Ronan’s-league genius of a classmate that Ronan has had the hots for since the start of junior year. Because _of course_.

Fuck Ronan’s life.

“This isn’t my room.” Ronan says dumbly after what feels like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, because really, _what else_ can he say?

“Yes. Thanks for stating the obvious.” Parrish says dryly, looking utterly unimpressed. The way he says it and the faint accent Ronan immediately picks up on do shameful, unspeakable things to Ronan’s lower abdomen. Ronan ignores it and forces himself to focus on the matter at hand. He’s still not entirely sure what’s happening, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand that he messed up big time, and Gansey isn’t here to get him out of this one.

“That isn’t your shirt either, by the way.”

Ronan looks down to where Parrish is pointing at his chest, mortified. That is definitely not his shirt. Ronan doesn’t own any shirt with a ridiculous palm tree pattern that looks like something he would wear ironically to a family dinner to piss his brother off. The joke is on the tip of his tongue, but even Ronan knows how to read the room.

There’s a pointed silence and Ronan is aware this is his cue to explain himself before Parrish decides to call security or, hell, the fucking police, but he can’t for the life of him make his brain work. Ronan can barely function on a regular day, so his chances to behave normally in front of a pretty boy he’s had a bit of a crush on for months with a copious amount of alcohol in his system are slim to none.

And because Ronan is a fucking moron who can’t keep his mouth shut either, he finds himself saying, “You left your door open.”

It sounds way too accusatory even to his own ears. Ronan doesn’t dare look Parrish in the eye.

“Me leaving my dorm room open wasn’t an invitation for you to break in,” Parrish shoots back without messing a beat, staring Ronan down with his big blue eyes. He has a really intense gaze. Ronan wants to die a little.

“I’m sorry,” Ronan amends quickly, realizing he should have probably started with that. He tries his best to look apologetic. Ronan does feel more than a little apologetic, but he has been told that it doesn’t translate very well onto his face.

“That doesn’t really explain anything.”

Ronan curses internally, realizing he’s actually going to have to use his words if he wants to get out of this mess. Ronan isn’t a big fan of using his words, much less when he has a splitting headache and wants nothing more than to pass out again, but he understands why someone would want to know how a stranger ended up in their bed without them inviting them to it. Ronan probably would.

To his credit, Parrish doesn’t seem to be taking it too badly, considering. He looks more annoyed than freaked out, at least. Ronan can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

“I was drunk and thought this was my room. The door was open so I assumed my roommate forgot to lock it again.”

Ronan clamps his mouth shut and really hopes Parrish is kind enough to let this go. This was an honest mistake, after all. Ronan is positive Parrish isn’t the type of idiot to get shitfaced and accidentally stumble into a stranger’s room, but he hopes he’s the kind of person to take pity on a poor drunk soul like Ronan and agree to forget about it.

Parrish gives him a long, hard look. Ronan swallows nervously and tries not to fidget, feeling like a kid awaiting his punishment.

“Do you even live in this dorm?” Parrish asks, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Yeah,” Ronan says with a reasonable amount of confidence, because he’s pretty sure he didn’t get the wrong _building._

“Alright,” Parrish sighs after a few seconds, running a hand through his dusty hair. (He has really nice hands. And really nice hair.) He looks a little less exasperated and more like he just wants to get this over with, and Ronan thanks his lucky stars. “You need help getting back to your room?”

“I’m fine,” Ronan assures him, because he really doesn’t want to find out he’s in the wrong dorm with Parrish trailing behind him. Ronan vaguely wonders if Parrish doesn’t believe him and wants to make sure he’s not some kind of creep who breaks into people’s dorm rooms and steals their ugly shirts in their absence. Ronan can’t fault him for it.

“You sure?”

Ronan nods and does his best to look collected, which is quite the challenge. He’s mostly sobered up by now, but he feels considerably awkward and uncomfortable, and his face is most likely some embarrassing shade of red right now.

Also, well, Parrish is really pretty, and Ronan is notorious for losing his composure in front of people he finds pretty. And with his soft hair, high cheekbones, pretty blue eyes and perfect lips, Parrish could give any other pretty person a run for their money. Ronan hates to be a sap, but he might be the loveliest thing Ronan has laid his eyes on in a long time.

Parrish walks him to the door and Ronan follows like a chastised puppy. He’s still wearing Parrish’s shirt, but Ronan was sticky from the party, and he’s probably sweated even more in his sleep, and he can’t possibly return a dirty shirt. Or maybe he should, lest Parrish thinks he’s actually trying to steal it. Ronan isn’t sure of the etiquette on how to proceed after you break into someone’s room and accidentally sleep in their clothes.

The idea forms in Ronan’s head and, for the record, he actually does try to reason with himself for a minute. But well. Ronan has already made the worst impression imaginable, and it’s not like he can come back from it. It can’t get much worse than this. And, again, he’s had a stupid crush on Parrish for almost a year, and he’s never interacted with him before today. Which is a rather accurate representation of the absurdity of Ronan’s life, when you think about it. But point is, Ronan has nothing left to lose, and he'll never get another opportunity to do this, and so he might as well shoot his shot and lick his wounds when Parrish inevitably shuts him down and slams the door in his face like any self-respecting person would.

It’s a stupid idea. Ronan isn’t sober enough to care.

 _Fuck it_. Ronan swallows around the lump in his throat and goes for it. “If I had your number, I could wash the shirt before giving it back. Just to make sure you’re in the dorm. And stuff.”

Parrish stops in his tracks and blinks at him, and for the first time tonight, he doesn’t look like he wants to murder Ronan anymore. Ronan would even say he looks a little impressed, though it’s less in a ‘I-am-totally-charmed-by-your-desperate-attempt-to-get-my-number’ way and more in a ‘I-can’t-believe-you-have-the-nerve-to-say-this’ way. “Did you just make a pass at me after I found you passed out drunk in my bed in my shirt that you stole from my closet?”

Ronan shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide his obvious agitation. “I guess.”

Parrish gives him an unreadable look, and then he bursts into a fit of laughter. It’s a very endearing sound. Ronan hates himself for thinking that when his brain catches up on the fact that Parrish is laughing _at him,_ and he makes up for it by scowling at Parrish, though Parrish seems completely unaffected by it.

“You’re a disaster.”

Ronan doesn’t really have anything to say to that. “I’m aware.”

Adam shakes his head at him. Ronan wishes he had just grabbed his shirt and left with at least a shred of his dignity intact.

“You’re Gansey’s friend, aren’t you?”

Ronan is a little taken aback by that. Parrish has definitely been around a few times when Ronan was with Gansey, but he didn’t think Parrish would remember. “Yep.”

“Figures.”

Ronan wants to ask what this is supposed to mean, but he has a feeling the answer won’t be too flattering. He doesn’t think his ego can take any more blows tonight.

He’d also rather Parrish doesn’t mention any of this to Gansey. Ronan can feel his headache worsening at the thought.

This is the perfect moment for Ronan to call it a night, apologize again, and remove himself from the situation before Parrish has any second thoughts about letting him off easy or Ronan says something stupid that he’ll regret for the next decade on top of everything else he's already said.

Obviously, slightly-drunk-Ronan-who-is-a-lot-flirtier-than-usual has other plans. Slightly-drunk-Ronan-who-is-a-lot-flirtier-than-usual also seems very intent on ruining Ronan’s life. “You remembered me. I’m touched.”

“You can’t flirt with me after you broke into my room and stole my clothes.”

“So I can flirt with you at a later time?”

Parrish lifts a brow at him. Ronan resists the urge to cower under it.

“Do you even know if I’m gay?”

“I would say so.”

“And why is that?"

“I have a great gaydar.” Ronan mostly has a great tendency to engage in wishful thinking. “Also I saw the way that girl was draping herself all over you at the New Year’s party and you didn’t bat an eye.” Ronan probably should not have mentioned that he’d noticed Parrish at the party, just like he’d noticed him at every other party before that one and everywhere else, because Parrish is painfully hot and Ronan is painfully gay, but Ronan's brain-to-mouth filter is nonexistent at this point. At least he can blame it on the alcohol.

“I’m not gay.”

Ronan’s heart sinks like a stone.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose. Okay. This is cool. It’s not like Ronan was expecting any different. Actually, Parrish not being gay is probably better than having to live with the knowledge that he ruined his chances by getting plastered and breaking into his dorm room like some fucking squatter. Ronan is ready to play it cool, get out of this room and go to any lengths necessary to never cross paths with Parrish again. Serves him right for making an ass of himself in front of some straight boy. At least Parrish doesn’t look offended Ronan assumed he was gay. Ronan really isn’t in the mood to deal with some homophobic bullshit right now.

God, he can’t wait to sleep this off and block this whole ordeal from his memory forever. He makes a mental note to put salt in Henry’s coffee and let Chainsaw shit on his hair for dragging him to that stupid party in the first place. Let this be a lesson that nothing good ever happened when Ronan got smashed. Maybe this is the push he needed to cut down on the alcohol.

So surprise doesn’t even begin to cover how Ronan feels when Parrish says, sounding entirely too amused, “I am bisexual, however. Though Reem is my friend and she’s a lesbian so I’m afraid your radar kind of sucks.”

Ronan is stunned into silence.

By the time he recovers enough to be able to form coherent thoughts, which takes longer than Ronan would like to admit, Parrish is staring at him with a smug smile on his face, very obviously enjoying his reaction. Inexplicably, the look in his eyes looks almost fond, though it could be the alcohol playing tricks on Ronan’s mind.

“You’re an asshole,” Ronan states without any heat, but there’s an incredulous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He has to remind himself that this doesn’t mean anything. Bisexual or not, Ronan is still the boy who broke into his room in the middle of the night and proceeded to blame _him_ for not locking his door. It’s a miracle Parrish hasn’t kicked him out yet.

He clears his throat, wondering where to go from here, but Parrish beats him to it.

“Say that again and I’ll change my mind about giving you my number.”

Ronan’s heart skips several beats. He stares at Parrish, baffled and tentatively hopeful, and Parrish’s smile grows slightly wider, but he doesn’t backtrack.

Ronan still can’t fully believe this is happening, so he croaks out, kind of pathetically, “I’m still kind of drunk and I don’t want to misread the situation and embarrass myself any further so you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

Parrish chuckles, light and airy. “I’ll give you my phone number so you can give me my shirt back. Or ask me out on a date. Whichever it is.”

Ronan gapes at him like a fish. And then he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shoulders slumping in relief. He feels ridiculously giddy all of a sudden, and it takes every bit of self-restraint he has to stop himself from kissing Parrish right then and there. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

"Cool. Very cool.”

“Preferably both. I like the shirt,” Parrish adds with a playful smile that makes Ronan’s heart feel three sizes too big for his chest.

“Can’t imagine why.”

Parrish rolls his eyes at him and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Some part of Ronan is still wondering if Parrish isn’t playing some cruel prank on him because this all seems too good to be true, so it takes him a little off guard when Parrish hands him his phone so Ronan can type in his number before pressing the call button.

“So I know where to find you if you decide to disappear with my shirt.”

“Don't worry, I would never wear this shirt sober.”

“I’m reconsidering giving you my number.”

“Please don’t,” Ronan says, only half-joking.

Parrish smiles at him, wry and teasing, and this time Ronan can swear he’s not imagining the hint of fondness in his expression.

“I should go,” Ronan says after a few seconds of staring. It takes great effort to tear his eyes away from Parrish’s face, but Ronan has overstayed his welcome and he shouldn’t push his luck any further than he already has.

Parrish nods. Ronan lingers in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry about… all this.”

“It’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me since I moved here.”

“I’m not even gonna ask.”

“My roommate is convinced he’s a ghost who’s been dead for seven years.”

Ronan barks out a surprised laugh.

“Well, is he?”

“I have yet to figure it out.”

They share an amused look.

“You didn’t type in your name,” Parrish points out when Ronan is halfway out the door, waving his phone at him.

“Ronan.” If Ronan’s voice cracks a little, Parrish doesn’t mention it and Ronan is more than happy to ignore it.

“Adam,” Parrish says back with a smile. His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. Ronan’s head is ringing, and he’s going to have one hell of a hangover, and his friends are going to give him _so much shit_ for this, but in that moment he knows with unshakable certainty that he’ll never regret this night for as long as he lives.

“I know.”


End file.
